


On Assignment

by savvyliterate



Series: On Assignment [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1930s, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvyliterate/pseuds/savvyliterate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1931. The cusp of the end of Prohibition. And two journalists have made it their work to find the ones who engineered it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU set roughly in 1931. The Doctor's been a bit anachronistic by using the word 'cool' as slang since that didn't start until around 1933, but when would the Doctor ever adhere to normal standards anyhow? Throughout the story, I refer to the Doctor carrying a [brownie camera](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brownie_\(camera\)), which did come in some foldable sizes, specifically like [this](http://www.brownie-camera.com/83.shtml).
> 
> This fic came about inspired by [](http://gidget-zb.livejournal.com/profile)[**gidget_zb**](http://gidget-zb.livejournal.com/) 's AU stories she's been doing to fulfill a Tumblr meme and a discussion I was having Saturday with [](http://penguinspy42.livejournal.com/profile)[**penguinspy42**](http://penguinspy42.livejournal.com/). I thought of having the Doctor and River be reporter/editor or reporter/reporter. Jenn suggested photographer/reporter, and the idea was set.

She strode into the darkroom, anger simmering beneath her skin, and committed the ultimate sin.

She hit the lights.

“What? _No!_ No, no, no, no, what’re you doing?” He jerked his head away from the enlarger and sprinted toward the trays where photographs lay in various stages of development. He jerked off his tweed coat and dropped it over the trays before whirling on her, his eyes lit with the fury of an oncoming storm.

She leaned against the doorway, a face framed with a riot of blonde curls and ruby red lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Hello, sweetie.”

“No one gets to call me sweetie. Who are you?” he said in a dark voice meant to intimidate.

She held out a hand. “The name’s River Song. And you’ve stood me up.”

"How have I stood you up? I don't even know who you are! Now, get out of my darkroom!" He batted away her hand, doing his best to try to push her out the door, but she remain steady on the 3-inch pumps she wore that matched the color of her lipstick. She merely plucked a translucent piece of paper from the bulletin board where it had been hastily tacked and shoved it in his face.

"See this? It's called a photo assignment. An assignment for one of my stories. You didn't show up."

He snatched it. "I only work with Amelia Pond."

"Amy's out on maternity. You're working with me now, sweetie."

He shoved the paper back in her face. "Well, you can keep your assignment. And I'm not anyone's sweetie." He nudged River back two paces, then slammed the door in her face.

River cooly looked at the assignment and tossed it in the waste bin. Turning, she fluffed her curls and smiled just a bit evilly. "I suppose then you've no interest in tracking down the Silence."

The door immediately popped open. "We can negotiate."

\-----

"The Silence. No one's ever seen them, no photographs are known to exist. Half the desk thinks they're a story, the other thinks it's a cult, and you've made it your life's work to track them down."

The Doctor paused in gathering three cameras, a folding brownie, a tripod, and a fez. "How'd you know all this?"

"I'm a reporter, sweetie. It's my job to know these things." River took the fez. "Oh, no, you're not wearing this on assignment."

"I'm not your sweetie, and fezzes are cool," he spat back, snatching the fez. "If you call me anything, call me the Doctor."

"Really? And here I thought the name outside your lab says John Smith."

"Trust me, I'm the Doctor." He dipped into a refrigerator, pulling out several rolls of film.

"Doctor of what?"

"Doctor of this." He snatched a file folder off a shelf, all but tossed it in River's face. She caught it and opened to see a series of photographs. Brilliant, color photographs.

"Color photography? How in the world did the editor sign off on this? It's extremely rare, not to mention expensive as hell."

"He didn't." The Doctor promptly shoved everything in a bag. He grinned for the first time since she'd come into the room and tapped her nose. "There, you've got that 'he's quite impressive' look on your face.'"

River shoved the folder back at him. "That's my normal face."

"Then, you must always be impressed."

She rolled her eyes and privately admitted that she was indeed a bit impressed.

\-----

River wasn't the only one who could be impressed.

"Take a look at that," she said, nodding to an envelope as the Doctor shoved equipment in the back of the car, "while I drive."

He thought of protesting, because really he didn't care for anyone's driving other than his own, when he picked up the envelope and felt the familiar heft of a negative plate. He grabbed gloves from his inside jacket pocket and slipped them on before carefully pulling out the glass plate and studying the image of a bulbous-shaped figure with large, dark, alien eyes.

He nearly dropped it in shock.b"This is one of Victor Hess's plates."

"Very good, sweetie."

"Doctor," he reminded her.

"Doctor, sweetie."

He grit his teeth.

"This is one of the ones he took from a balloon. Some have dismissed it as a cloud, or some sort of anomaly, but I don't think so." River navigated them into traffic. "Professor Candy at Harvard slipped this to me. He thinks it's connected with the Silence. Theory is they've been the key forces behind Prohibition and speakeasies, a very lucrative business when you come to think about it."

"Prohibition happened in 1918. This had to be taken earlier than that."

"Around 1912. They say he's going to win the Nobel Prize for that work."

The Doctor scoffed.

"You watch." River smiled. "I'm always right, my love."

She would be right.

\-----

The stakeout was long, but it wasn't as boring as some of the ones River had gone on in the past. Oh, it was always easy to slip into a speakeasy. A flirty smile, a discreet showing of the gun she kept strapped to her thigh, and copious amounts of cash was usually all that was needed to get inside and get the story. Her editors didn't care where she got her sources, just that she got them in the first place. Her work was gold, and readership skyrocketed.

This time, she had quite the accessory.

"Why are they staring at me like that?" The Doctor whispered to her, still pouting over the fact that she'd only allowed him to bring in the brownie camera and had tossed his fez in an open manhole.

"Because, you're with me." Her breath ghosted over his ear, and he found himself shivering a bit. "And they all think I probably bought you for the night."

"Bought me for what?" he asked a bit blankly.

River's eyes narrowed.

"What?"

"Sweetie, I think you've spent far too much time around darkroom chemicals and not enough time dancing."

"I dance!" The Doctor replied, offended.

She sidled closer to him, and her breath ghosted over his ear again, causing a shiver at the base of his spine. Her hand slid over his thigh, dangerously near several particular body parts that were starting to remind him did indeed exist. "No, Doctor. _Dancing._ "

He swallowed hard and didn't ask again.

\-----

The resulting story netted in a bust on the speakeasy, recognition for the paper's top investigative journalist and photographer, and a bonus in their next paychecks.

It also resulted in a bounty on their heads.

"A bounty! How exciting!" River said with no small amount of glee as the Doctor gaped at just how much the mob was willing to pay to kill them. "They're even sending the Weeping Angels after us, oh we've really pissed them off."

"Not me! You! You pissed them off, River Song, with that gun and that," he gesticulated frantically, "thing you do."

"Oh?" An eyebrow winged up. "What thing?"

"You know. Kiss, kiss, bang, bang. Waving that gun about, and I saw you shoot that one man in the arm after you flirted all over him. You even kissed him! You're not a reporter, you're … _something._ "

"Oh, I am something all right, sweetie."

"Doctor!"

"It didn't stop you from taking all those pictures." River tapped the 5-column shot of the mayhem inside the speakeasy that the Doctor had taken despite being restricted to the brownie.

It also didn't stop them from digging further into the seediest areas of the city, unearthing the Silence's operations one by one. Exposing them to the light, the Doctor thought after they'd witnessed one series of arrests. It was almost a personal vendetta for River, he realized as their unusual partnership turned from temporary to permanent. She knew about the Silence, far more than he'd ever managed to find. However she'd managed to come by her information, she impressed him with the breadth of it.

Not even the return of Amelia Pond from her maternity leave kept him from making sure he was attached to all of River's assignments, from mundane ribbon cuttings to going undercover as factory workers to investigate working conditions for the poor.

"I couldn't believe it when Rory told me," Amy said, referring to her copy editor husband. "You, working with River Song. River never works with anyone."

"She works with me now, Pond. We're a team. A rather cool team. I keep coming up with a team name, but she hates them all."

"That's because they're rubbish, Doctor."

He straightened, squinting at her in the low light of the darkroom. "My team names are cool!"

"No, they're not. You kept wanting to call me and Rory your Team TARDIS."

"Which was a really cool name!"

"You realize you've turned in more work in the past three months than you have in the past year? And look at this! You took photographs of a Kress ribbon cutting. Last time someone tried to assign you to one of those, you sent it back all sticky and covered with crumbs like you used it for a napkin."

"I needed one! Sandwiches are quite messy."

Amy gave him a knowing look. "You fancy her."

"What? I do not fancy her. Motherhood has obviously warped your brain, Amelia Pond."

"No, it hasn't. All you've talked about since I walked in today was 'River this' and 'River that,' and you went to a ribbon-cutting. Face it, my raggedy photographer, you're in love."

"I am not," he vehemently denied, even though he was quite sure Amy could hear his suddenly racing heart. He stilled, angled his head at her. "What do you know about her?"

"Not much. She's friendly, but says nothing. Only person I know of who's convinced the Silence are real. Other than us, of course." Amy grew thoughtful. "I think it's something of a personal vendetta for her. Editors don't care as long as she turns in the copy. Which, speaking of that, if I don't file, they'll be looking for an excuse to shuffle me off to features." She wrinkled her nose.

\-----

The photo happened by accident.

It was another experiment in the Doctor's color photography after he spent weeks begging River to book an assignment tailored specifically to allowing him to use the film to its best advantage. Even she had been impressed by the process and stayed with him in the darkroom as he carefully processed the frames.

At first, when the images of the park swam into focus in the chemical bath, the Doctor thought it was some sort of camera malfunction. Then he recognized the shape of the face, the size of the eyes. Pushing his protective goggles out of the way, there was just enough light in the room to see the hint of recognition and the steely look in River's eyes. She'd seen it, too.

"It matches the plate," he said with half awe, half glee, and half fear because instead of looking impressed or excited, River looked angry.

"It matches the plate," she said softly.

"You're not happy? We've done it." He grabbed her arms, pulling her away from the developing photo. "River, we can prove that the Silence are real!"

"Oh, my love," River said sadly, her eyes suddenly shimmering. She slowly took a breath, then pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, her hand sliding down to gently entwine her fingers with his. She pulled back before he could think to turn it into a proper kiss. "I've always known they were real. How do you think I've known so much about them all this time?"

He stared at her in shock, understanding what had probably been under his nose all along. But, he was in far too deep to ever let her go.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hello!" He bounded into the middle of the morning budget meeting, causing everyone to openly gape and the city editor's cigar to fall from his mouth. He waved eagerly. "I'm the Doctor!"

"We know who you are," Amy hissed and grabbed his sleeve. "Sit!"

But the Doctor wasn't focusing on Amy. He scanned the sea of faces and the lack of one stood out. "Where's River?"

"Miss Song has taken a leave of absence," the city editor barked. "Now that's you've graciously decided to join us for the first time in your tenure here, sit down and go over your assignments."

The Doctor grabbed a sheet. "Church pet show? Rubbish. Give it to Simm. He's sitting over there looking all smirkish." He tossed away the assignment. "I only work with River Song now."

"Doctor!"

"Oh, and Amelia Pond too. Can't forget the Ponds." With a curt nod, he spun on his heel and stalked away. He didn't allow his shoulders to slump until he was out of eyesight.

\-----

He'd loved photography. Ever since he was a teenager and had appropriated an abandoned No 1 Autographic Kodak Junior Camera, vintage 1914, he'd been fascinated by the way time could be frozen in a single frame. His world had become a sea of chemical baths, endless nights in the darkroom and days capturing everything he could on as much film as he could afford as he sought his Ph.D in fine arts, a concentration in photography.

It'd been Amelia Pond and Rory Williams, his neighbors and best friends, who'd gotten him the job at the paper where he'd turned into the eccentric, but the best beat photographer they had. What few photos the Doctor turned in always drove sales through the roof, and it was enough to justify the expense of keeping the Doctor around.

The Doctor perched on his stool, the darkroom in complete darkness. He heard the ticking of his wristwatch, the subtle clicking away of time as for the first time in years and years, his thoughts centered around something other than photography and the Silence. He thought of River, her sad, yet angry eyes, her confession. The fact that her lips had touched his, only briefly, and that even now, he could smell her perfume. The scent of rain on dry earth. Petrichor, he thought absently, and his heart ached.

\-----

"Nothing?"

"No, and if you don't go do something, I'm going to send you to obituaries." Amy shoved the file drawer shut and poked her finger in the Doctor's chest. "Not to mention you pissed off Kirby the way you disrupted the budget meeting yesterday. Go lie low until he doesn't want to fire you again. Oh, what am I talking about, you don't even know the meaning of that."

Amy wove through crowded rows of desks until she came to hers, the Doctor on her heels. She dropped into her chair and absently fiddled with the photo of her baby daughter, Melody. "Look, if something pops up on the police reports, you'll be the first to know. She's all right, Doctor."

No, she wasn't, the Doctor thought. He picked up a pencil and began twirling it in his fingers. "About my other question …"

"No." The response was quick and sharp. Amy sighed at the crushed look in her oldest friend's eyes. "Doctor, even if my beat began to overlap River's, I don't have the skills she does or the connections. Plus, I've got to think of my baby now. We had such a close call already. The moment I even begin to sniff in their direction, the Silence will come for us. For Melody. I've got to think of my baby. Does River know what …"

"No," he said, cutting her off before any of the reporters could overhear. River had her secrets, and the Doctor had his own. And, when he saw her again, he privately vowed to tell her each and every one. Whisper them into her skin as he pressed kisses to her flesh, wrapping himself around her, melting inside of her and … he flushed, shuffled his legs and hastily held his hands over his lap.

Amy smirked. "Penny in the air, Doctor?"

"And the penny drops, Pond," he bit back, conjured a shot of the most disgusting thing he could think of -- pears slathered with Tabasco sauce -- and managed to walk away from Amy's desk with his dignity intact.

\-----

 _“Would you like to play with me?”_

 _The little girl seemed so very odd to John. It wasn’t uncommon for someone new to wander onto the playground, but the nervous look on the girl’s face belayed her eager-sounding voice. He normally didn't play attention to them. He found other things fascinating -- the bugs, the trees, the plants, the small animals wandering about. He longed for a way to capture them, just for a moment to treasure them, then let them go again._

 _Amy looked up from her new doll. “Sure!” She held the doll out to the girl.. “I’m Amy. This is John. We’re playing hide and go seek with Rory.”_

 _“And, you haven’t found me yet!” Rory’s voice came from a tree._

 _“That’s because time’s not up yet,” Amy protested._

 _"It's been 30 minutes, Amy," John pointed out._

 _Amy made a shushing noise, then she turned back to the girl. “What’s your name?”_

 _But the little girl looked fearfully over her shoulder. Something about her grabbed his attention, actually keeping it on the girls. The new girl was blonde, he thought, and her eyes looked so sad. And something inside him suddenly twisted into a fearful knot, and he knew something was very, very wrong._

 _“Please,” the little girl suddenly said. “You have to run.”_

 _“You want to play tag?” Amy asked._

 _“No,” the girl begged. “Please! Run! Don’t let them take you, too!”_

 _“I don’t understand,” Amy replied, glancing at John in confusion._

 _Then she looked up._

 _And screamed._

\-----

“Doctor? Doctor, you in there?”

He promptly tumbled off the stool, landing on the ground with a crash, still half-asleep. The past bled into the future, and Amy's screams and the ripe smell of fear was replaced with the comforting scent of darkroom chemicals. The door opened slightly, and he spotted the silhouette of Rory Williams, dressed neatly in a suit and tie, just arriving for his copy editing shift.

“You OK?” Rory slipped in, but left the little sliver of light coming in. “Amy wanted me to check on you. She said you’re acting funny.”

“Who, me?” The Doctor rolled to his feet and promptly tripped over the stool. “Never better! Rory Pond, how are you?”

“Stop calling me that, Doctor,” Rory said in a resigned voice as the Doctor hopped on one foot and uprighted the stool. “Melody’ll get confused if you keep saying that around her.”

“Melody’s a Pond! All three of you are magnificent Ponds! “

“Look, Amy wanted to see if you’d come over for dinner. You’ve not seen Melody since the christening, and she’s worried.” Rory smiled and walked out of the room ahead of him. “She told me you're actually working with someone else. Never thought we’d seen the day you’d be gone over a woman.”

“I am not _gone_ over a woman. Whatever gave you that idea?” The Doctor promptly ran into the door.

“I haven’t a clue,” Rory said, amused.

\-----

“Amelia Pond.”

“John Smith.” Amy looked up from where she stirred rice to watch the Doctor dangle little Melody on his knee. He’d insisted he spoke baby and that the child had mocked his customary bowtie, but Amy knew that was all rubbish. Still, it was cute to allow him to think that he understood Melody.

“Doctor John Smith,” he reminded her.

“Why don’t you just gold-plate that Ph.D certificate? Hang it ‘round your neck?”

“You’re just jealous.” The Doctor twirled around with Melody, and she let out a little gurgle of baby laughter. He tucked her in the crook of his arm, and both appeared utterly content. “Amy,” he said quietly, “do you remember that day?”

Amy bit her lip, then nodded quickly. “Hard to forget the day you were kidnapped.”

“You remember that little girl? What did she look like?”

“I … I don’t remember that.” Amy tapped the wooden spoon against the side of the pot, then carried it to the table. “It’s all sorts of strange. I remember her, but not the girl. But, I know she was there. It’s like I just looked away, and I can’t remember.”

The Doctor didn’t say anything, but he cuddled Melody just a little closer as he started putting the pieces together in his mind.

\-----

Three days later, Amy thumped a telephone directory on the table in the darkroom as the Doctor stared forelornly at the glass plate River had shown him the very first day of their partnership.

“Here,” she ordered. “Pretend to be a journalist. Find River yourself. She’s probably in the phone book.”

The Doctor scoffed. “She’s River Song. She’s too River-ish to be in the directory.”

Amy merely lifted an eyebrow and nodded to the book.

The Doctor pulled it to him, flipped through it, intending to prove Amy wrong.

But when he got to the ‘S’ section of the book, a piece of notebook paper with Amy’s handwriting floated out of it. He picked it up and saw an address and phone number written down. “What …”

“You’re right. She’s not in the directory. But, she is in the personnel files.” Amy gave a little wave as she headed back into the newsroom. “Oh, and you owe Donna lunch for that. See you!”

\-----

The Doctor sat outside the small apartment for at least an hour in his battered Model T, debating the merits of going in. Of course, he wasn’t going to find River there. That would just be too easy.

But, he reasoned, he could find a clue to River's whereabouts. Piece of mail, receipt, something. And, surely she needed someone to water her plants. That was actually a plausible excuse, he thought as he finally got out of the car. Maybe there was a cat that needed to be fed. She had to leave so fast she couldn't tell the neighbors, so the cat was hungry and it was his duty to save the cat. That was even better.

Breaking in took little work. the Doctor always carried a screwdriver in his jacket pocket, and he made quick work of the locks. He quietly eased the door open, with no guilt about breaking and entering whatsoever. River really needed a new lock anyhow. Actually … the Doctor glanced at the marks he left and grinned sheepishly. She really needed a new door as well.

He dug his Winchester flashlight out of his pocket and flicked it on. The copper felt solid and steady in his hands as he swung it around the small living room. Luggage was stacked near the entrance, and one of the suitcases was open with laundry spilling out. He moved the light to the mantel and froze at the line of photographs.

For the most part, they were his work, some of the color photography he'd shown her the day they met. He knew he should be upset that she'd rifled through his precious darkroom, but he was too busy being pleased that she'd treasured his work to be bothered with it. He was so pleased he almost missed the final photograph, tucked behind the others. His throat went dry as he recognized the two people in the image, and he snagged the picture, tucking it in his inside pocket.

He moved through the kitchen toward the bedroom and saw light spilling out of another room, and the sound of a shower, pipes clanging as heated water moved through them. He went nearly weak with relief. Oh, she was there, and she was fine. Then the Doctor flicked off the flashlight, a bit indignant. River had been gone two weeks. Really, had she not heard of a telephone?

He weighed waiting for her, then shrugged and walked through the bedroom to the open bathroom door and promptly froze.

The curtain was one of those half-shower deals, where it only wrapped around half the tub. She was facing the spray, as he had an extremely nice look at her rear. He gulped, skittered backwards and promptly knocked the clothes hamper over.

In a fluid motion, River swept the curtain aside and around her body, plucked a gun out of a vase of flowers on a shelf in front of the toilet tank and aimed it at him. It took both of them a moment to realize exactly what had happened.

"Doctor," River hissed and put the gun back in the vase.

"You keep a gun in your bathroom?" he managed. OK, that hadn't been the first question on his running list of things to ask her.

"A girl never knows who's going to visit while she's in the shower." She swiped at her forehead as shampoo ran into her eyes. "Just what are you doing here?"

"You've been missing! I thought someone had kidnapped you!"

"Kidnapped me? Not hardly, my love." River turned her back on him and let the curtain fall away.

He swallowed. Hard.

 _Pears slathered in Tabasco sauce. Pears slathered in Tabasco sauce. Pears … not working!_

"Well," he squeaked, "you wouldn't answer your phone."

A throaty laugh came from the shower. "You didn't even know I had a phone before five minutes ago, I'd wager."

He thought of the Silence, the speakeasies, the guns and smoke. He thought of the way he would kiss every vow he could make into her skin and promise to keep her safe. He thought of Amy, Rory, and Melody. He thought of the little girl and was quite sure the reason he suddenly remembered the worst day of his life was because of the woman rinsing shampoo out of her hair.

And then she turned, shielded just enough by the curtain to where she kept the majority of her modesty. Her gaze raked his form, lingering on where the thought of pears slathered in Tabasco sauce was definitely not working, and bit her lip. He could see her mind, that brilliant, analytical mind nearly as bright as his own, working through the possibilities, and he wondered if she had her own version of pears slathered in Tabasco sauce.

Their eyes met. Held.

Then she spoke, her voice low and sultry. A true siren's song. "Hello, sweetie."

He broke.

So did she.

She shoved aside the curtain as he took the room in two strides, shoving her up against the tiled wall and nearly knocking her out of the claw-foot tub. His mouth covered hers, and her hands immediately made their way into his hair, fisting it so hard that it bordered a pain that only added to the pleasure. His hands swept up and down her curves, mapping them with light touches, knowing he'd have every part of her committed to memory within minutes. She frantically pushed at his tweed jacket, and he allowed her to push it off. It landed in a sodden heap at his feet.

Oh, he needed to think. They couldn't do this. No, no, _shouldn't_. That was all the difference. There were so many questions that needed answering, and this … _this_ would change everything.

No. Everything had changed the moment she slapped on the lights in his darkroom.

“Most accidents,” he managed in-between nibbling her neck, a quick bite before laving the spot with his tongue - a move that he found made her shiver and moan a bit, “happen in the bathtub.” His hands found the faucet and turned the water off as she managed to get his braces undone.

“Then by all means, my love, the bedroom is right through that door.” She started to pull away, but he simply hitched her up until her legs wrapped around his waist. He slipped a bit on the wet tile and discarded jacket, but they laughed with careless abandon as he carried her into the other room.

He found, much to his delight, shock, and a bit of fear, that this was a first for them both.

And, he discovered that in addition to photography, there was something else that he was very, very talented at -- making River Song scream.


	3. Chapter 3

For the first time, his mind was quiet.

There were usually thoughts, millions upon millions of them, swirling in his head. An elaborate spiderweb of knowledge and imagination, spinning about and giving him company as he made his way through this one human life, determined to embrace everything.

But now, everything was still and peaceful. A train passed, speed causing the apartment to vibrate slightly as the conductor blared its horn through the sleeping city. He lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling while she dozed and used his chest for a pillow. He didn't mind that. Didn't think he ever would. His hand moved through her curls, dry now and a bit tangled from not being properly brushed. They'd been a little too busy for that. His fingers slowly separated out each curl, wrapping it around a long, slim fingers before letting it spring away.

He'd never done anything like this. Ever. The closest had been when Rose Tyler had taken a fancy to him in high school and that had been a wonderful confusion of emotions, hormones and more than a bit of paralyzing fear. When he'd finally gotten the courage to kiss her, Rose had disappeared, her family suddenly moved to Europe because of her father's work in the military.

"Penny for your thoughts?" River's sleepy mumble vibrated against his skin.

"I'm just surprised," the Doctor admitted. "You know, you're all … flirty and everything. I've seen you kiss 26 men and four women, and that's just around me."

"You counted."

"Of course I counted!"

"You're jealous."

"I'm not jealous!" He poked her shoulder. "I thought that you'd …"

"No." River pulled back so she could look down at him, the street lights spilling in through the window casting a halo around her mass of curls. "I wanted something they couldn't take away from me, something I could control. That turned out to be it."

"Why me?" His thumb brushed the apple of her cheek, surprised to find tears there.

"Oh, my love." She covered his lips with hers and showed him.

\-----

When the Doctor awoke, it was to a bedroom stripped bare, the lingering stench of chloroform instantly alerting him as to what had happened. He fought off the fog of being drugged and scrambled out of bed, managing to at least find his trousers.

When he raced into the kitchen and the living room, everything was gone. The luggage, the pictures, every bit of personal decoration was gone. His tweed jacket was folded on the table and a note rested atop it. Two tear stains dotted it, blurring the ink to the point that the letters bled into each other. But, he could still read it.

 _"I'm sorry, my love."_

\-----

The Doctor burst into the newsroom, camera bag over his shoulder and a burning purpose in his life. "River! Where are you?" he announced to the room at large. Several reporters shot him death glares and one person sent a balled-up sandwich wrapper in his direction.

"Oi, skinny hobo," Donna from personnel looked up from her desk. "Some of us are trying to work."

"Donna!" The Doctor sailed over to her desk. "Donna, Donna Noble! The most brilliant woman in this office!"

Donna snorted. "That's not going to get you out of the lunch you owe me, sunshine." She turned back to her typewriter, and he spotted the form she was filling out. A form for personnel files about terminations and the circumstances.

And the name …

He lunged, ripping the sheet from the typewriter.

"Oi!" Donna yelled.

But, he paid no attention to her as he read the name, the reason, the date effective. He lowered it to see Donna's sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, John," she said, quietly. "Amy told me you liked her. Funny, I thought she had a thing for you, too."

He couldn't hear her. All that existed was the screaming in his mind.

He dropped the note on Donna's desk and stumbled into the darkroom, ignoring Kirby's shout and Amy's voice. He managed to hold it in until he'd gotten the door shut behind him, and the equipment hit the ground with a sickening thud. He stumbled to the tables and, in a scream of grief and rage, swept the tubs off. The last tub caught the glass plate River had given him by the corner and spun it out and across the room. It hit the wall and shattered.

He sank to the ground and buried his head in his hands.

The door cracked open. "Doctor?" Amy asked hesitantly.

He scrubbed his face with his hands, unable to look at her. "Amelia Pond," he choked.

"John." His real name rushed out of her, and then she was on the floor with him, cradling him close as tears rolled down his cheeks, splashing on her dress. He didn't want to cry. He wasn't a crier. But, for some reason, he just couldn't stop.

Rory slipped in, and he and Amy exchanged pained look as their closest friend fell apart.

\-----

"Any better?" Rory asked three weeks later.

Amy shook her head as she rocked Melody, holding her close as the baby nursed. "No. Kirby says he's going to let him go. Too many people out of work to waste on a man moping around doing nothing. We barely got him out to the fire on 3rd this morning, which probably bought him a couple days. But, he kept searching for her in the crowd." Rage vibrated through her, toward the woman who abandoned her best friend. "Why did she do that, Rory? Why did River just leave him like that?"

Rory Williams was familiar with every inch of River Song's copy in a way that Amy would never be. It was the intricate relationship between copy editor and reporter. He rested his hand on Amy's shoulder and thought back to the stories she reported, alone and with the Doctor. "I think," he said after a moment, "there's more going on than any of us can begin to realize. I think maybe she left to protect him."

"Fat lot of good that's doing," Amy shot back, agitated. "I want our raggedy photographer back, Rory."

"Maybe I can help."

\-----

Rory handed the Doctor a thick envelope the next day and a takeout order of fish fingers and custard.

"What's this?"

"Your favorite lunch and information. These are the archives of all of River's articles related to the Silence. And, Amy says you're skinny, even for you." Rory grabbed the Doctor's sleeve before he could toss the envelope away. "Look, I know you two worked closely together. But, so did I on the copy side. I think the reason why River left had everything to do with the Silence."

"I've read all her work. For years and years, ever since that day, I've read every scrap of information on the Silence. That's why she sought me out to begin with. I don't want it." The Doctor pushed the bag and envelope back toward Rory, and he shoved them back in the Doctor's arms.

"You've got the most brilliant mind in this place, other than River's. The reason why she left is in her copy. Now sit down and read it, or I'll have Amy start leaving Melody's diapers in the developing bins. The used ones. And you've got an assignment with Amy at 3. Show up to it." Rory left him.

The Doctor dropped the meal and the envelope on the table, muttering under his breath. The flap opened, and an article slid out. He was reading it before he even realized he was doing so. Then, he scrambled to find a notepad and pencil for taking notes. Then, he began eating the fish fingers and custard.

He devoured his lunch.

He met Amy for the assignment.

Time began to move forward again.

\-----

"I'm looking for information," the Doctor said as he sat across from Dorium Malldovar, leader of a gang especially renowned for procuring such knowledge. He made his move on the chess board and leaned forward. "What do you know about the Silence?"

"They're a myth," Dorium replied.

"You're lying."

"Where's your proof?"

The Doctor pulled out the photograph he took from River's mantle. Dorium's face paled.

"You recognize them, don't you? Two little girls. Amelia Pond. But, the other …," he tapped the blonde-haired girl next to Amy. "You know who she is, don't you? Ah, yes, I can see that." His eyebrow winged up. "And, I also see that really big gun in your hand. I'm impressed. You really don't like the fact I'm winning this game, do you?"

Dorium cocked the pistol. "Doctor, as lovely as it was to make your acquaintance, I really must regret ending our meeting early. You do understand, don't you?"

"But, of course." The Doctor relaxed into his chair, folding his arms behind his head.

Dorium's trigger hand twitched. "You're not screaming," he murmured. "Why aren't you screaming? Begging? Pissing yourself?"

"Now that would be quite a mess, wouldn't it?" The Doctor replied calmly.

Dorium lunged forward, pressing the cool barrel of the gun to the Doctor's forehead. "What do you have on me?" he hissed.

A gunshot rang out, and Dorium howled as the bullet shattered his wrist. The gun fell into the Doctor's lap.

"Well, guess you won't need these anymore." The Doctor quickly emptied the gun, then held up the brownie camera. "Aw, give us a smile, Dorium. It'll look great on tomorrow's front page." He snapped a couple pictures, then lowered the camera to see River standing behind Dorium. He shot out of the chair, barely remembering to tuck the camera away. "River, what the hell are you …"

"Duck!" River yelled, and he did, the bullet barely passing over the top of his head. He pivoted and found himself back to back with River. "What're you doing here?" he asked as about a dozen men came running into the room.

"Saving you, what does it look like?" River dipped her hand into the Doctor's pocket and grabbed the bullets. "I can handle six of them. 10 at the most if I reload. As soon as the door's clear, run!"

"I'm not leaving you!"

"You don't have a gun!"

The Doctor frantically patted his jacket, then pulled out the screwdriver. "I have this!" he said, waving it threateningly.

"You have a screwdriver? What're you going to do? Build cabinets?"

"That's really quite rude!"

River began shooting, and the Doctor waved the screwdriver, somewhat offended that they weren't taking him seriously. He grabbed his copper flashlight out of his pocket and thwacked one of the men in the head with it. He promptly went down.

River spun them toward the door, and as they made a quarter-turn, the Doctor spotted the shelf along the wall, items stacked high on it.

Another half-turn, and they were close to the door and next to the shelf. Stepping away quickly, the Doctor quickly used the screwdriver to unbolt the shelves from the wall.

As soon as the last screw was loosened, the shelf collapsed, all manner of illicit and explosive items falling to the ground. The Doctor barely recognized one of them as a grenade as he grabbed River's hand. "Run!" he yelled, tearing up the stairs. River shot the last of her bullets over her shoulder and, hand in hand, they raced through the abandoned building and into the street.

They'd cleared the explosion, but not quite far enough. He felt the punch of air, the heat and the smoke, and tackled River. They hit the pavement as the ground vibrated, and he did his best to shield her body from the raining glass. His ears rang and his eyes stung, but he clung to River as if his life depended on it.

"Doctor? Doctor? John!" River squirmed under him, and with a shock, the Doctor realized it was the first time she'd ever used his real name.

"I'm fine," he managed, carefully rolling off her and helped her up. "Are you hurt?"

"No, no, I'm not." She wore a long black dress that definitely wasn't in fashion, but looked absolutely gorgeous anyhow. Red shoes peeped from beneath the torn silk. Her hair was in a disarray, and her face was smudged and bruised.

She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted his next breath. But, he held firm and grasped her shoulders. "The little girl. That was …"

"That was me," River confirmed quietly.

"Amy. They took Amy."

"And they gave her back." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "They gave her back because she had people who loved her and who were willing to pay anything to get her back. Because you and Rory saw everything. There was no one to do that for me. So, they kept me."

"River …"

"I have to tell it to you now, or I never will." She grabbed his hand, pulling them into the nearby alley as sirens sounded in the distance. "They used to use me to ferret out other children. I didn't want to, but I was so, so scared. They kept threatening to shove me into a gas chamber. I've seen other children go in … and never come out. So, I did what I was told."

She fiddled with his bowtie, trying to reassemble it into some semblance of order. "I ran away at 18. Ran and ran and ran until I was sure they couldn't find me. I changed my name, my looks the best I could."

"Why can't Amy remember?"

"It's how the Silence work. Copious amounts of drugs." She laughed a bit bitterly. "How do you think I was able to drug you?"

"We really need to have a talk about that," he said, not quite wanting to start a fight just yet.

"Oh, my love." River trailed her fingers down his cheek, and he leaned into the embrace. "They found me. The day you took that picture. You got that shot because they were sending a message to me. I went to Chicago with copies of all my data. It's there in a safe deposit box in your name. Go find it and keep doing what I'm doing."

"We'll go together. Right now. The Model T's parked a few blocks from here. There's a train out of here at 1:14 and …" The Doctor tried to nudge them toward the street as he babbled.

River laid a finger over his lips. "Don't you understand? I have to leave."

"What? No, you can't leave! I just found you again." He gripped her shoulders. "What happened at your apartment doesn't matter. I forgive you for it. For all of it. Absolute, completely and until the end of our lives, I forgive you for anything and everything you could possibly do. I read your stories again, River. I figured out what you're trying to do. We can do it together! River, we …"

"Shut up!" She nearly screamed the words. "You can't go with me. Don't you see? The Silence would just target you next. They'd go after Amy and Rory, and they'd especially go after the baby. They'd kill all of you and I can't let you die! They'll exploit Melody the way they exploited me." Her voice was choked from tears and smoke. "They'll go after everyone I've ever loved, and there's no one I love more than you."

"Hello?"

The Doctor whirled, screwdriver at ready, to see one of the cops reporters from the newspaper standing at the alley. "Harkness?"

"Hey! John Smith! Wow, we weren''t expecting to have a photog out here at this time of night, and instead we got the best of the best! Why're you standing by yourself? You're missing some great action out here."

"I'm not by myself, Harkness, River's with …" But he knew even before he turned around.

She was gone.

\-----

"The Silence was founded in the 1880s," the Doctor explained a few weeks later to Amy and Rory as he held Melody in his lap. He had gone to Chicago and found the safe deposit box and the blue diary it contained. "They discovered their niche of finding orphaned children or obtaining them from poor, overwhelmed families. They made a tidy profit selling those children into factory work, as servants, even overseas to work in the fields and as soldiers. When Prohibition started, it was just a sidestep for them to start running the speakeasies and to have the law go after them. It was a cover for the children."

"Then, why did they kidnap me?" Amy asked. "I asked my parents, but they never wanted to talk about it."

"Quick money. Grab a kid who's well-off, hold them for ransom. They don't want to sell you into slavery because there's always a ready supply of orphans, and you're worth more because your parents actually loved you."

"And, River was one of them?" Rory asked as he poured out tea.

"One of the orphans. Her quick mind, her looks? She was no use to them as a servant or slave. Not when they could turn her into a weapon. You two apparently bonded while you were there, Amy. She got a broken arm when they drugged you before returning you, trying to protect you. Best thing they could do to wiping your memories. But, as part of the ransom package, they'd taken a photograph." The Doctor pushed the picture of young Amy and River he'd found on River's mantle over to her. "She never forgot you."

"She started right after I went on maternity." Amy ran a finger around the photo. "I wish I'd actually talked to her. She looked like she wanted to a couple times. Never did."

"So, she decided to go into journalism as a way of outing the Silence?"

The Doctor nodded to Rory. "City by city. Usually leaves once they sniff out where she's at. One step ahead of them, that's my girl."

"So, you have her diary now?"

"Left it in the safe deposit box," the Doctor told Amy. "Best place for it."

\-----

It didn't surprise Amy or Rory when the Doctor resigned.

"What're you going to do now, my raggedy photographer?" Amy asked as the Doctor lashed the last of his suitcases to the Model T.

"Oh, Idris and I will travel 'round the country for a bit." He patted the car fondly. "Take in the sights! There's a big world out there, Amelia Pond. Time to go live in it."

"You better come back, you hear?" Amy held Melody close and gave him a watery smile.

The Doctor moved quickly, crushing his oldest friend and his goddaughter in a bear hug. "Oh, Amelia Pond. I'll always be back. I said I'd be here for all of Melody's birthdays, eh?"

"That you did," Amy said with a laugh.

"Rory Pond!" The Doctor gave him a salute. "Take care of your girls!"

"And you take care of yourself, Doctor!"

He gently lifted Melody from Amy's arms. "And as for you, Miss Pond, you grow up to be a brave girl, you hear me? You'll always be surrounded by love, and as long as I have any say in it, you'll always be safe. But, no matter what, Melody, you must always be very, very brave." He kissed Melody's forehead as she reached for his bowtie. He shifted her to one arm, used his free hand to loosen the bowtie and handed it to her. Melody instantly fisted it and tried to shove it into her mouth.

Amy took the baby back and kissed the Doctor's cheek. He waved to them, cranked the car, then swung into the driver's seat.

"Doctor!" Amy yelled over the engine. "I was wondering something. River's real name. You know it, it's got to be in her diary. What is it?"

The Doctor's eyes twinkled. "Her name's Melody!"

\-----

 _Six months later_

River Song was the best hire any Philadelphia newspaper could make. Her stories riveted readers and sales skyrocketed. Her work, which she had started at a paper further west, was slowing bringing the attention of a notorious group called the Silence to light. Her articles dived into how they exploited children and the poor, syphoning badly needed aid into the pockets of those who claimed to represent the church. She was, in a good area of the city, public enemy No. 1. It was a status she was, quite frankly, very comfortable with.

Her nights were extremely lonely.

"Song, we need you for a ribbon cutting in 20. New Kress down on 24th," her editor barked.

She winged an elegant eyebrow, her heart aching as she remembered the last one she covered. "I've got this due by 5."

"It can wait. We don't get out and cover this, and the boss will have both our asses. You've got a photog for this one. Grab him on the way out." His brow furrowed. "Weird fellow."

"Oh?" River tossed a pencil and a couple of notepads in her purse. "Why?"

"He came from a paper to the west. Wouldn't say where. His work's gold."

\-----

River tore through the newsroom, walking as fast as she could manage without calling extra attention to herself, her editor's words ringing in her ears.

 _"Claims he can only work with one reporter though. But, maybe you can get through to him."_

She strode into the darkroom and committed the ultimate sin.

She hit the lights.

And there he was, perched on the stool in tweed, bowtie and floppy hair, eyes sparkling. That blessed, wonderful screwdriver poked out of his top pocket.

"Hi, honey," the Doctor chirped. "I'm home!"

River's breath hitched, and she released it on a sob. "What sort of time do you call this?" she managed through the tears.

He moved off the stool and to her, his thumbs brushing away the tears. "The right time," he murmured before pulling her into his arms, pausing in kissing her long enough to slam the darkroom door shut and press her against it. "It's time to show you that there are people in this universe who love you very much," he breathed into her ear, "and no one more than me."

They managed to make it to their assignment.

Barely.


End file.
